L izzie tried to ignore the words Jeremiah had said on their way to her great-grandmother’s property, but her mind kept imagining what his kisses might taste like. Distracted by her rampant thoughts, she stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk. When he reached to steady her, his fingertips felt like fire and she jumped at his touch. “I’m fine.”
She felt anything but fine. Especially when they reached their destination. The empty lot in front of her was clearer than her jumbled mind. “It’s not here.”
“What were you expecting?” Jeremiah looked from Lizzie to the grass covered property in front of them.
“My great-grandmother’s home.” A disappointing swoosh of air escaped from her lungs.
“Maybe they tore it down?”
She almost laughed. The chances were, it probably hadn’t been built yet.
“Can I tell you something,” Lizzie asked, “and you promise not to think I’m crazy?”
“I would never think you were out of your mind.” Jeremiah’s expression sobered.
“I know this is going to sound like something out of a science fiction movie…” Lizzie remembered they didn’t have television. She paced frantically, then stopped in front of Jeremiah and stared into his wide, brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say this, but I’m not from here.”
A smile etched the corner of his lips. “Are you playing games with me again?”
Lizzie slowly shook her head. “A few days ago, I was visiting my grandmother and my great-grandmother—they live together, and Great-grandma Mullane showed me the Crazy Quilt, that was the name of it, that her mother had made.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I laid down with the quilt and fell asleep. When I woke, I was here.” Lizzie held her hands out, palms extended upward. “Back in the time of my great-great-grandmother. Somehow, I seem to have taken her place or something.”
Taking a calming breath, Lizzie closed her eyes.
Jeremiah’s arms embraced her.
She relaxed, laying her head on his shoulder, smelling the spicy scent of his cologne. “I just want to get back home, but I don’t know how.”
“I’ll help you find a way,” Jeremiah promised.
Savoring the comfort of his arms, she absorbed the warmth his body offered, slowly nodded in recognition of his promise.
“Thank you.” Her response was barely more than a whisper, but he’d obviously heard her because he held Lizzie even closer.
Several of moments of silence lingered, before she lifted her head off his shoulder.
Jeremiah tilted her chin upward to look at her. His thumb gently brushed against her cheek. “From everything you’ve told me, we know that you can’t go back to your great-grandmother’s.”
Lizzie already knew that, because there wasn’t a house and it would be years before one was built.
“So, what about the quilt?” Jeremiah asked. “Maybe you have to make it like she did? Then you can get home.”
“Maybe.” Frustration welled up in Lizzie like a volcano, threatening to explode. “However, I don’t know how to sew.”
“So, you learn.”
She wanted to laugh at how nonchalantly he thought the task would be. “And who do you suppose I get to teach me?”
“Your mother didn’t strike me as the type of woman to make her own clothing.” Jeremiah’s lips pressed together to the side, and his pupils raised as his mind apparently grasped for ideas.
It was mesmerizing to watch him process his thoughts. The closeness made her a little uncomfortable. She wiggled out of his embrace and began to pace, long enough to put a couple feet between them.
“You could join a sewing group,” he suggested. “I think some churches or women’s groups may have them. If not, I could ask my sister if she would come and stay with you for a few days.”
“A few days?” Lizzie’s eyes widened. “You think I can learn that quickly?”
“You certainly have the motivation to try.” Jeremiah smiled.
That, she did. Lizzie remembered the fabric in the chair in her bedroom that her sister had pointed out the morning she woke up in this place. It was all the same material, and the original quilt had five different fabrics. “But there’s still another problem. I have to find the exact fabrics my great-great-grandmother used.”
“I’m off work tomorrow,” Jeremiah beamed. “We can go shopping together.”
“But don’t you live in St. Louis?”
Jeremiah nodded. “I have a friend that I can stay with.”
“Thanks.” Lizzie smiled. “Maybe we could also check out a few stores today as well?”
“You really aren’t from here, are you?” Laughter bellowed as his chest shook. “Blue laws forbid some businesses to be open, or for some things to be sold on the sabbath.”
“That’s right.” Lizzie snapped her fingers and pointed at Jeremiah. “I remember my grandmother telling me that they couldn’t sell soda on Sunday either and that’s how the ice cream sundae came about.”
His eyes squinted as he looked at her curiously. “So, things change in the future?”
“Oh, yeah, a lot.” Lizzie laughed. “Wait until you get to try concretes.”
Jeremiah scrunched his face in a peculiar distortion of disapproval. “They’ll have edible sidewalks?” He shook his head. “That sounds disgusting. Who would want to eat something you walked on?”
Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. Clearly, it would take more effort to explain the future. She imagined it much like speaking Christianese to a non-Christian. They would be clueless. Which was why the book of Revelations was so hard for her to understand. When John wrote the Revelations, he was talking about things that were yet to come—the future. So, he obviously didn’t know how to describe modern things that hadn’t happened yet with the proper terminology.
“You don’t walk on it, silly.” Lizzie let out a deep breath. “But I can see how the name could be confusing. I think they call it a concrete because it is thick.” She shrugged and chuckled. “I guess it really is an odd thing to call ice cream, but it is delicious.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that.” His hands in his pockets, he stared at her.
Goosebumps ran up Lizzie spine and she shivered.
“Are you cold?” He started to take off his suit coat, until she shook her head.
“I’m fine.” At least she was physically. Emotionally was another story. “All this talk about ice cream made me cold and hungry for dessert. You really should try ice cream with chocolate candy mixed in.”
“When the weather gets warmer, we’ll have to give it a try.” Jeremiah closed the gap between them and entwined his arm in hers. “In the meantime, why don’t we go get a cup of tea?”
Jeremiah led Lizzie toward a busier street not far from the train station. The restaurant he took her to reminded her more of a café. It was old, yet modern, given that for their era, it was relatively new. Things still confused Lizzie, like the realization that the old soda fountains and paintings on the walls were not restorations or reproductions—they were the originals.
After their earlier conversation, she laughed secretly at the sign in front of the soda fountains that informed patrons no soda would be sold on Sunday. Lizzie knew better than ask for iced coffee after their meal at the fair. She was certain iced tea came about years before anyone started drinking iced coffee. “Can I have a cup of coffee with cream?”
“Sure.” Jeremiah took change out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier. “Can I get two cups of coffee with milk?”
Milk? Lizzie groaned inwardly. Creamer probably hadn’t been invented yet. She took a seat near the window. Jeremiah carried their cups of coffee to the table, placing one in front of her before sitting in the wooden chair across from her.
“I didn’t think to bring my purse,” Lizzie said, realizing she’d allowed him to pay for her beverage. This wasn’t a date. He was a friend, helping her. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
“No need.” He took a sip of his coffee. His eyes remained focused on her the whole time. “A gentleman never allows a lady to pay.”
Granted, the coffee didn’t cost that much, but it made her feel beholden to him. Why didn’t men like this exist in her timeline? Today, guys often expected something in return if they were paying your way, and they definitely didn’t talk and act as refined. It was one of the few things she’d found enchanting about this era.
Movement outside the window caught her attention. A middle-aged couple strolled along the sidewalk, the woman holding onto the man’s arm at the elbow. The sight of her pale blue striped dress with little pink and white flowers with green leaves made Lizzie’s breath catch.
“That’s it,” she muttered, pointing toward the retreating figure.
Jeremiah turned to look.
Lizzie stood and hurried out the door in pursuit of the couple. “Ma’am, please wait.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder, verifying she was the one being summoned.
To Lizzie’s relief, the woman stopped.
The man with her looked slightly confused, until he caught sight of Lizzie. “Can we help you?”
She nodded. “Your dress. I need that fabric.”
“I beg your pardon?” The woman’s eyes widened as her hand flew to her chest.
“I’m sorry.” Lizzie giggled at how her words must have sounded to the lady. “I’m making a very important quilt and I need to find that fabric to use. Can you tell me where you got your dress, or the fabric if it was handmade?”
“It was a gift from my sister,” the woman said. “She ordered it from a catalogue.”
Jeremiah had joined them, nodding to the man when he approached.
“Do you know what catalogue?” There could be dozens of catalogues. How would she know which one? “Or even if you could tell me the name of the store that carries the dress?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. My sister is visiting relatives in London.”
“Can you call her?” Lizzie’s voice squeaked.
“I’m afraid not, dear.” The woman frowned. “While we do have a telephone, we don’t have the ability to call overseas.”
“When will she be back?” Panic gripped her heart tighter than a vice grip.
“We don’t expect her back for a couple of months,” the man informed Lizzie. “I’m sorry that we’re not able to help you.”
They turned to go.
Lizzie reached out, grabbing the woman’s arm firmer than she’d intended. “Please, can I buy the dress from you? Anything? I really need that material.”
“Please unhand my wife, or I’ll be forced to call the constable.”
“I’m sorry. I assure you that won’t be necessary.” Jeremiah wrapped his arm around Lizzie’s waist and urged her to move away from the couple. “Come on, Lizzie. We’ll figure something out.”
As her hand loosened her grip on the woman’s arm, Lizzie felt her chances of creating the exact same quilt slipping out of her grasp as well. She had to get home—she just had to!